Far From Mundane
by CrazyforCMM
Summary: As Tristan’s life spirals downward right before his very eyes, will that certain someone be there? Trory. **Chapter Two is now up!**
1. Forgetting Myself

Title: Far From Mundane

Author:  Chrissy

Disclaimer:  I own nothing sadly.  The song featured in this chapter is "Forgetting Myself" by Third Eye Blind.

AN:  This story takes place after Tristan and Rory have completed college.

Summary:  As Tristan's life spirals downward right before his very eyes, will that certain someone be there?  Trory.

Chapter One:  Forgetting Myself

_This is not my life or maybe it is  
I keep on forgetting myself_

Tristan DuGray ran his right hand through his tousled blonde hair for the millionth time that day.  "Liz, haven't you picked the perfect ensemble yet?"

Elizabeth Kent floundered further by choosing yet another outfit to wear to the annual Hartford Charity Banquet.  "How about this one?"

"Liz, it's perfect just like the other five before," Tristan said annoyed.  "We really need to get going unless I'll have to partake in yet another in depth speech from Benjamin and Gabriella DuGray concerning how a gentleman should arrive promptly."

"I can't believe my ears; Tristan DuGray paying mind to this parents!  Where's that rebellious, dashingly handsome chap I know?" Liz said while finally choosing a flashy red dress that screamed improper at a charity banquet.

"Chap, eh?" Tristan casually glanced at his two thousand dollar watch his parents had bought him two birthdays ago.  "I'll meet you downstairs, my love," he said with a kiss.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Elizabeth appeared at the staircase.  "I'm ready now."

"Great, we're only forty-five minutes late," Tristan said arrogantly.

"And you love every minute of making the last highly publicized appearance at a banquet," Elizabeth smirked.

Tristan turned the porcelain doorknob, and then led Elizabeth to the black limousine.  "Tristan, I'm impressed," Elizabeth said absentmindedly; she was used to aristocratic luxuries.

The limousine arrived at the Hartford Country Club 'red carpet' shortly thereafter and at the first sign of a shoe, the photographers and press went wild.  The highly publicized couple had reporters and all of Hartford's society in a frenzy.  Elizabeth and Tristan responded to the flashing white lights with beaming smiles.  

"On behalf of Tristan and myself, I'd like to thank you for all the support you've shown us.  Thank you," Elizabeth bogusly extolled.

The couple turned towards the entrance of the country club when Tristan mumbled sarcastically, "You couldn't even tell that you memorized that ahead of time."

"Tristan, I like to present a positive and gracious image to the press and the millions of well-wishers," Elizabeth replied with a beauty queen air.

Too bad you don't present a 'positive and gracious image' to those around you, Tristan thought with a smirk.

It had not been five seconds when Benjamin and Gabriella had appeared at Tristan's side reminding him that a gentleman must always be prompt.  "Tristan, you need to be responsible.  You act like you're 16 when in reality you're 25," admonished Tristan's father.

"Mr. DuGray, it's not Tristan's fault; it was my own.  I couldn't decide on what to wear," Elizabeth said somewhat dim-wittedly.

"And Ms. Kent, _this_ is the outfit you were to choose?" questioned Mrs. DuGray.  

Elizabeth ignored the question and walked off to the bar area in a huff.

"Tristan, you're late as it is, so come with me to say your respects to our eldest friends."

As Tristan stoically verbalized his respect to the DuGray clan's lifelong acquaintances, Elizabeth kept her eye on a very attractive man who was currently dancing.  The dance soon ended and Elizabeth didn't miss a beat catching the young man's attention for he soon made eye contact and motioned for her to dance with him.  

Tristan's eyes wondered carelessly around the room and finally came to rest on the dancing couple.  He wistfully watched Elizabeth and her new dance companion; Tristan had known it was coming.  Elizabeth never stayed long after not getting what she wanted; she had wanted to be the prized trophy wife, while he had wanted a life long friend.

Tristan DuGray walked towards the door, turning only once to see Elizabeth not only dancing with her new 'fling', but now, she was locked in the new conquest's lips; to this Tristan could only shake his head in disbelief.  

This unverbalized breakup did not go unnoticed by the Hartford society, for soon after Tristan had left the room, the gossip buzzed incessantly.

Tristan had felt too stuffy in the room and decided to take a walk to clear his mind.  _What was I thinking?_, he silently asked himself.  Numerous questions surfaced in his head._  How had I let this relationship get this far without noticing how flighty Elizabeth really was?  How had I let my life come to this?_

Tristan sighed and decided to head back towards the lavishly decorated Hartford Country Club.  

The neat brick path he walked upon represented the Hartford society; not one unerring from the set precedent.  The acquaintances with which Tristan had known his whole life were boring 'rectangular bricks' and each person formed together created the perfect 'path'.  Tristan kicked a red brick loose from the others and sneakily looked side-to-side to see if someone had seen his vandalism.  Upon his furtive glances, Tristan was then bombarded by a wide set of innocent blue eyes…


	2. Help

Title: Far From Mundane

Author:  Chrissy

Disclaimer:  I own nothing sadly.  The song featured in this chapter is "Help" by the Beatles.

Quick Recap: Tristan and Elizabeth Kent have just broken up in front of Hartford society and when we last caught up with Tristan, 'innocent blue eyes' were upon him.

Thank you all for your reviews!

Chapter Two:  Help!

_And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,  
My independence seems to vanish in the haze.  
But every now and then I feel so insecure,  
I know that I just need you like I've never done before._

A familiarity twinkled in the brilliant blue eyes.  Panic dripped from Tristan's face as he recognized the blue eyes that belonged to Rory Gilmore.  The flash of blue on blue set Tristan running towards his chauffeured limousine.

"Mr. DuGray, should we wait for Miss Kent?" questioned the driver.

"No, take me to the airport as fast as you can drive."

The driver's brow furrowed in confusion, but he did as he was told.

The white headlights of the cars on the expressway blurred by as Tristan sat motionless in the back seat of the limousine.  _Since when did Tristan DuGray become the butt of the joke?  And of all people to bump into after such an incident, it had to be Rory Gilmore?_

The view of the over traveled airport came into view and Tristan snapped back to reality.  "Thank you John," he replied almost unconsciously.  Tristan stepped out of the vehicle, ran his smooth hand through his richly tousled blonde hair, took a deep breath, and proceeded forward.  The airport's ticket service appeared to be vacant.  Tristan suavely replied his destination of New York to the ticket employee, who consequently handed him his ticket voucher.

With ticket in hand, Tristan entered the plane first due to his superior seating arrangements.  As he sat down in the seat closest to the window, Tristan found that his plane ride would not be as quiet as he had hoped.  His seat companion, Alicia, introduced herself with a flirty giggle, which Tristan responded with a smirk; he could be in the worst mood, yet someone would still flaunt herself to him.  The plane lifted from the air and was bombarded with milky, white clouds.  After about one hundred miles of clouds were passed, the pilot stated, "Welcome to New York."  _Finally, home_ thought Tristan.

***

The world outside seemed a blur of yellow and red with a dab of blue as Tristan tried waving down a taxi.  _Damn it, what's a guy have to do to catch the attention of a cab driver?_

With no shot at getting a taxi to his apartment, Tristan began walking the ten blocks.  One stone building looked like the next, which all seemed like a great blur to Mr. DuGray.  The blurred buildings led Tristan to his own; one that stuck out like a needle in a haystack due to its very modern architectural appearance. 

Tristan jabbed his shiny silver key into the keyhole, turned the knob, opened the door, and sighed.  _It's good to be home again_, he thought with a grin.  After a quick scan of his apartment, the good feeling of home evaporated; the apartment gradually struck Tristan as stuffy like his parents' mansion had felt.  The slight ping of a lonely night caused Tristan to head to the mini bar for a quick 'thrill'.  Visions of Elizabeth drained from his mind, but he was still haunted by the intense cobalt eyes.  _I need to clear my mind._  Tristan opened the balcony door of his penthouse apartment and stared down five stories below.  The headlights of white, yellow, and red, moving at the speed of light soothed him.

***

The sun peaked through the vertical blinds that hung on the large penthouse window causing the hungover Tristan to squint his eyes.  "It's too early," he mumbled.  He quickly looked at his watch, which read 10:30.  Cursing himself silently for not setting his alarm, Tristan rushed through his apartment searching for fresh laundry.  He quickly changed into his black pinstriped suit, ran a quick hand through his bed head hair, and stumbled through the door.  Tristan waved his hand wildly in the air; his business was not in walking distance and he certainly couldn't afford to be any tardier.  Finally, a yellow taxicab came squeaking to a stop.  "Fifty-second street, please," instructed Mr. DuGray as the car accelerated forward.

After about fifteen minutes of stop and go traffic, Tristan reached his destination, paid his fair, and exited the yellow taxi.

He looked up at his building _DuGray, Inc._, which was a subdivision of his father's enterprise.  With a quick trot through the revolving door, Tristan then walked the marble hallway that led to the front desk.  "Hello Mr. DuGray," greeted Ellen, the receptionist.

"Hello Mrs. Wood," responded Tristan.  After walking over to the elevator, Tristan pressed the metal button, which read _up_, and then tapped his foot while waiting for the elevator to arrive.  The floor number flashed _1_, which caused the shiny silver doors to open.  Tristan rushed into the elevator, pressed _10_, and walked to the back of the elevator.  He vigorously massaged his temples to soothe his head before a myriad of questions would be attacking his tiny brain.  As soon as the elevator opened, the questions were drilled upon him.  

"Where've you been?"

"The executives of our latest account have been waiting for _one_ hour!"

"One at a time," Tristan replied trying not to loose his temper.  "What conference room are they in?"

"Ten."

Mr. DuGray made his way to the conference room to find two very annoyed customers awaiting his presence.  "Hello Jonathon and Stephen," Tristan said while shaking hands with the two older gentlemen.  "I'm extremely sorry for the delayed meeting, so I won't make you wait even longer; let's get started."

"Tristan, you need not speak further-we're through," Jonathon replied with an irritated expression painted on his face.  "Let's go Stephen.  I'm sure we can find a more reliable and less expensive advertising agency than this."

As the door of the conference room closed, Tristan threw a glass at the door that splintered into thousands of little pieces.  He then stomped off to his own corner penthouse office.  

Thousands of images flashed into his mind; Elizabeth, Hartford, New York, his coworkers, and his customers all in one uniform monotonous voice told him _Great job, DuGray!_ sarcastically.

The rush of anxiety shot to Tristan's head.  He tramped nervously around his office trying to stop the feelings of rejection, failure, and fickleness.  The flicker of the white small refrigerator in his office stopped Tristan's walking trance in mid-stance.  He opened the door quickly and grabbed the hardest liquor he could find.  He gulped down a small sip, slid down the wall to land on the floor, and began drinking more ounces away.  Two hours later, Tristan's secretary found him passed out in the same spot and speedily dialed _911_.

The ambulance soon sounded and paramedics rushed to the tenth floor hoping they would get there in time.  Rushing against fate, the paramedics hastily placed the young gentleman on the stretcher and headed to elevator and down they went again.  In the elevator, they began their lifesaving tactics.  After the arrival to the first floor, the stretcher and paramedics then darted to the ambulance, which then sped away.

***

The back and forth motion of closed eyes was soon replaced by blue eyes peaking out of their protected safety for the first time in two day.  "Hello Tristan," sobbed Gabriella DuGray.

The blue eyes darted to and fro.  "Where am I?"

Gabriella looked away, sobbed lightly, then responded, "Tristan, do I really need to explain?  You tried to kill yourself."

The cerulean eyes widened in astonishment.

"Tristan, you drank a whole bottle of vodka.  Your stomach's been pumped and there's _still_ alcohol in your blood.  You'd think a DuGray could handle himself.  No, he's got to make a public fool of the DuGray name.  Thanks to you Tristan, _DuGray, Inc._ is on the verge of being bankrupt because so many customers are withdrawing their support of the company.  Do you ever think, Tristan?"  
  


The astonishment was soon washed away by anger.  "Well mother, it's nice to see you again, too.  I can see you wouldn't have minded my absence."

"Tristan, don't even say that!  Do you really think I'd rejoice and applaud you for 'coming around' after you had your father and I in panic."

The vision of his parents being in panic brought Tristan back to his old mood, for he laughed.

"Tristan!  You think it's funny what you did?" his mother replied annoyed.  "Your father told me that as soon as you woke up, I should start preparing you for your exit from the hospital."

Tristan's eyebrow furrowed in perplexity.  "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, the future of _DuGray Inc._ depends on how well you respond to reporters who are covering the story of your discharge from the hospital."

"Reporters?  Why would they be there?"

"Tristan, do I really need to answer such foolish questions?"  By the looking of deepening mystification, she assumed she did.  "The reporters will be here because…well, how do I put this…  Tristan, as a DuGray-"

"Will I ever be rid of the 'DuGray' name?"

Ignoring her son's question, Mrs. DuGray continued, "As a DuGray, you're in the public view.  You've been a 'public icon' ever since you were young due to our extraordinary wealth.  The public likes to see you in a sticky situation like the one you're in now.  As soon as news spread that you, well you know, the press has been on this like it was a presidential election.  We need to start you off on the right foot by first making sure you're completely free of alcohol poisoning for a couple more days.  Then, no matter what you say, you're going to an AA meeting-"

"Mother!  I don't have a problem-"

"Tristan, but you do.  I might put on the airs that I don't know or care what you do with your life, but gossip does spread about you and your less then perfunctory affairs," said Mrs. DuGray as she stared down at the floor while Tristan gazed incredulously at his mother.

Sensing it the right thing to do, Tristan then quietly said, "Thank you mom for being here."

His mother quietly nodded her reception of his praise.  "Tristan, please think about going though, I mean it."  Glancing at her watch, Gabriella responded, "I'm going to hire an image consultant to help you with the press when you leave," and walked out of the room.

***

Tristan perfected himself in the mirror before making his debut with the press.  His mother, father, and lawyer, entered the room.  "Tristan, are you ready?"

"Yes."  
  


"What are you going to tell the press?" quizzed his mother.

"I'm going to AA meetings and that I shouldn't answer questions for more than two minutes."

"Good job.  Let's go."

The four walked on the tiled floor that led to the exit.  The press waited just beyond the doors.  Sighing deeply before reaching the exit, Tristan calmed himself.  With the opening of the door, lights flashed from every direction.  The reporters all starting pounding questions towards Tristan.  "Tristan!  Tristan!  Are you getting any help?"

Responding to the press, Tristan responded his preplanned response, "Yes, I'm currently attending AA meetings twice a week."  He quickly glanced through the crowd when the two sets of blue connected once again.  He inaudibly questioned, "Rory?"

Noticing his recognition of herself, Rory responded, "I've got $500 from my editor for an exclusive interview."  The press around her frowned; their editors hadn't thought that far ahead.  "What do you say to that Tristan DuGray?"

"I'd say you have yourself a deal Ms. Gilmore, however, I must be able to edit the final article that will be printed," Tristan responded with a cocky air.

"Deal," said Rory Gilmore with a handshake to seal the deal.

More to come…


End file.
